Just when Ashley thought her office life couldn’t get more chaotic, along comes Karen, turning every rule of workplace decorum on its head. With Karen’s disruptive behavior peaking, Ashley plans a birthday surprise that could mend fences or alter office dynamics forever.
A woman sitting around table holding a tablet | Source: Unsplash
Hi everyone, I’m Ashley. I have a story about office life quirks that might sound familiar to many of you. So, buckle up, and don’t hesitate to chime in if you’ve ever found yourself in a similar situation.
Three office workers chatting and laughing | Source: Unsplash
I work at an advertising firm—a place where no two days are the same. Some days crawl by, while others whiz past so fast you barely have time to catch your breath.
A group of cheerful multi-ethnic colleagues having a party after work | Source: Pexels
Last-minute surprises? A regular feature. But despite the chaos, I genuinely enjoy what I do. I’m surrounded by awesome colleagues, and the workplace vibe is top-notch. Well, it was top-notch, until Karen came along.
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Now, I’m all for welcoming new faces. Newcomers stir things up, bring fresh ideas and skills, and generally pump new life into the team. But Karen… well, she’s a different story. It’s not that her work is bad, per se—it’s just that there’s a lot left to be desired, particularly in the ‘attitude’ department.
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So, Karen was quite the character. She had this habit that drove all of us up the wall. Every day after lunch, while the rest of us made sure to clean up our dishes and keep the kitchen tidy, Karen would just leave hers in the sink. Not a care in the world, just her dirty plates piling up.
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And if that weren’t enough to test our patience, her favorite pastime during work hours was napping. But not just any napping. Picture this: Karen, sprawled out in her office chair, legs thrown up on the table, shoes marking the surface with all kinds of dirt. It was a sight.
The snoring was the worst part! It was like having a freight train running through the room. Every. Single. Day.
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But it gets worse. Once a week, we would head to the pool for a relaxing break from the daily grind. Except Karen decided it was the perfect place to… file her feet. Right there in the shower area while we were all around. Gross, right? Super disgusting.
A woman filing her feet | Source: freepik
Then, there was the lunch incident. Imagine sitting at a restaurant, trying to enjoy your meal, and there’s Karen, at the same table, flossing her teeth. Not discreetly, but openly.
Two women having lunch outdoors | Source: Pexels
One time, a piece of whatever she had for breakfast shot out and landed smack on my friend’s and my face. We were mortified. That was it. The absolute last straw.
A woman holding a dental floss | Source: freepik
My friend, I, and nearly all our colleagues were fed up. So, we came up with a plan. Karen’s birthday was coming up, and we figured it was the perfect opportunity to clue her in on her less-than-charming habits. It was high time for a lesson, and we were just the folks to deliver it.
A group of people talking and looking at a laptop | Source: Pexels
So Karen’s birthday rolls around, and we decide to go all out. The whole department comes together, balloons floating everywhere, a big cake sitting proudly on the table, and of course, a special present just for her.
She walks in, sees the setup, and her face lights up. “Oh, guys, you shouldn’t have…” she exclaims, genuinely surprised.
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As she begins to unwrap her gift, we all gather around, watching eagerly. The moment she pulls off the last piece of wrapping paper, her expression changes dramatically.
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There, in her hands, is a huge poster framed beautifully but the content? Not so beautiful for her. It’s a list of etiquette and hygiene rules we all felt she desperately needed to follow.
A woman unwrapping her birthday gift | Source: Pexels
Her face turned a deep shade of purple as she read the list aloud: ‘Wash your dirty dishes, no sleeping in the office, stop the loud snoring, and please, for the love of God, stop filing your feet in the pool shower area and flossing your teeth at meals.’
The room fell silent for a moment, everyone holding their breath. But we didn’t stop there.
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We made sure these new ‘rules to live by’ were impossible to miss. Each rule was also plastered on the cake and written on each balloon floating around the room. We wanted to make sure our sweet Karen wouldn’t forget them anytime soon.
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The mix of shock and realization on Karen’s face said it all. This birthday, she got a gift that would keep on giving—hopefully, a nudge towards better office etiquette.
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Now, before you jump to conclusions about why we took such a drastic measure when we could have just had a simple chat with Karen—trust me, we tried.
Work colleagues having a conversation | Source: Pexels
And not just a casual mention; we really sat down with her and laid it all out, super politely. We told her how her habits were affecting the office atmosphere.
A woman sitting alone next to a birthday cake and presents | Source: Pexels
She nodded, promised to be more considerate, and everything seemed like it was going to be okay. But, alas, nothing changed. It was as if our conversation never happened. So yeah, we went with the drastic step.
Why her birthday, you ask? Well, it’s not a day one easily forgets, right? And we figured it would make the message stick.
Photographs lying beside a birthday cake | Source: Pexels
Plus, we made sure to document the whole thing. Pictures, videos—the works. These weren’t just for laughs; they served as a kind of proof, something to remind Karen of her promise in case she slipped back into old habits.
After unveiling the gift, there was a tense moment. Karen was visibly upset, a mix of anger and embarrassment coloring her features.
A brown-haired woman with confetti in her hair | Source: Pexels
She wasn’t expecting to be ambushed with a ‘hygiene intervention’ in front of everyone on her special day. Honestly, it took her a moment, but once the initial shock wore off, she agreed—again—to follow the rules we’d laid out.
This time, though, there was a serious undertone to her agreement. Maybe the public nature of the intervention made the difference.
Office workers doing a high five | Source: Pexels
What about you? Have you ever dealt with a ‘Karen’ at your workplace? How would you have handled the situation? Would you have done the intervention differently, maybe more privately, or not at all? Drop your thoughts and let’s chat about the wild world of office dynamics. I’m all ears!
A woman enjoying a drink while working on her laptop | Source: Pexels
Take a look at another interesting story below:
I Served a Woman Who Mocked Me throughout High School & Finally Got My Revenge after 20 Years
Under the soft glow of the evening lights, the restaurant buzzed with the cheerful din of a successful night. Yet, as I moved between the tables, careful not to bump into any sharp table corners, a familiar and unwelcome face caught my eye—Karen.
An interior of a restaurant | Source: Pexels
She hadn’t changed at all. Even after 20 years, the same haughty expression adorned her face, a look that had tormented me throughout my school years with her cruel taunts about my lisping and stuttering.
Suddenly, I was taken back to high school where my lisp was at its worst, making me second guess speaking.
An angry woman with folded arms | Source: Pexels
School speeches were the worst part of my entire schooling life, where girls like Karen would begin laughing from behind their hands and end up hanging off their chairs, tears streaming down their faces.
I would escape to the library and spend every free moment there, just to escape the taunts.
Teenagers taking a selfie | Source: Pexels
I remember the one incident where I was clutching my books tightly to my chest, trying to make myself smaller, trying to blend into the gray of the lockers as Karen navigated the sea of students, in her impossibly high heels.
I could feel Karen’s gaze like a spotlight, singling me out from the crowd.
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“There’s Lisp-Lily, boys!” Karen’s voice boomed, drawing a circle of laughter around me.
“Give us a smile and a speech, Lily,” she said. “Show us that stellar s-s-stutter,” she mocked, her words stretching out with malicious exaggeration.
A girl sitting on a chair | Source: Pexels
I remember wanting to cry myself to sleep that night. I sat in the kitchen with my brother, Alex, and I told him all about the events of the day and how Karen had lost it.
“You should give it back to her, Lily,” my brother said, spooning ice cream into a bowl for me.
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“If I could, I would,” I said. “But the moment I open my mouth, you know what happens.”
My brother went off on a tangent about how I should never allow anyone to make me feel less than myself.
“You’ve got to stand up for yourself,” he said.
A smiling young man | Source: Pexels
And I did. In my own way.
Click here to find out what happened next.
To Save My Father, I Pretended to Be a Stranger’s Fiancée, But I Never Expected to Fall for the Wrong Brother — Story of the Day
I was drowning in hospital bills when a stranger in a suit offered me a deal: pretend to be his fiancée, and he’d save my father’s life. I had no choice but to say yes. Then I met his brother…
The day started like any other, but by noon, my entire world had collapsed.
My phone buzzed just as I was locking my apartment door. I almost didn’t answer: spam calls had been relentless lately, but something made me pick up.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Miss Carter?” The voice was calm and professional. “This is Dr. Reynolds. I’m calling about your father.”
“Is he okay?” My voice cracked on the last word.
There was a pause, a measured breath. “His condition has worsened. He needs surgery immediately. Without it… his chances are low.”
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I pressed my back against the doorframe, gripping the phone so hard my fingers ached.
“How much?”
The number crashed over me like a tidal wave. Too high. Impossible. I barely heard anything after that.
I just murmured a weak “I’ll figure it out” before ending the call.
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But I had nothing. No savings. No family to ask for help. Just a café job that barely covered rent.
By the time I arrived at work, my chest felt hollow. I barely noticed the smell of coffee beans or the familiar chime of the bell as I pushed through the door. I made a beeline for my manager.
“Lisa, I… I need an advance. Please. Anything you can spare.”
Lisa’s face softened, but her hands twisted nervously.
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“Sophie, I wish I could do more. Two months’ salary is the best I can offer.”
It wasn’t enough. But I forced a nod, blinking hard.
“Thank you. I… I appreciate it.”
The weight in my chest only grew heavier. Two months’ salary wasn’t nearly enough. It wouldn’t even cover half of what I needed.
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I blinked hard, willing the sting behind my eyes to disappear. Crying wouldn’t fix anything. Exhaling shakily, I turned back toward the café floor. And that’s when I felt it.
Someone was watching me.
The sensation crawled up my spine, a quiet, lingering gaze that felt too deliberate to ignore. I glanced up. A man sat near the window, his eyes locked onto me.
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He wasn’t pretending to skim a menu or glance around absentmindedly. He was watching. Listening.
The café wasn’t loud. My conversation with Lisa hadn’t been a whisper. He must have caught every desperate word. Heat rushed to my cheeks.
Who is he?
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For months, another man always sat in that spot. We had never spoken beyond polite exchanges, but I noticed him. He never rushed, never buried himself in his phone, never seemed in a hurry to leave.
He always ordered the same thing. Black coffee. No sugar. No cream.
I even started adding an extra cookie to his plate. He never said anything, never questioned it, but he always smiled before leaving.
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And I had foolishly imagined, just once, that maybe one day he’d do more than smile.
But that day, he wasn’t there. Instead, a different man sat in his place.
Older. Sharper. Dressed in a suit that radiated quiet authority. He stirred his coffee with slow, deliberate movements, his gaze flicking toward me before shifting away.
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I forced myself to move, to pretend I hadn’t noticed. But my stomach twisted.
I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t know what he wanted.
And I had no idea that by the end of the night, he would change everything.
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***
Later that evening, I walked home, my body aching from the long shift, my mind tangled in numbers, hospital bills, and the crushing weight of impossibility. I barely noticed the cold creeping through my thin jacket or the flickering streetlights overhead.
I just kept walking. The streets were quiet, the usual city hum softened by the late hour.
Then, a car slowed beside me.
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I stiffened, gripping my bag a little tighter. The tinted window rolled down, and a deep, controlled voice called my name.
“Sophie.”
I froze mid-step.
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It was him. The man from the café. The one who had taken the seat of my regular customer that day—the one I always brought an extra cookie to.
Every instinct screamed at me, “Keep walking! Ignore him. This is how true crime documentaries start.”
But something about his tone made me pause. It wasn’t commanding. It wasn’t threatening. It was… certain.
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“You don’t need to be afraid,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “I just want to talk.”
I turned, keeping a cautious distance. “Who are you?”
“Steven.”
He leaned slightly toward the open window, his dark eyes sharp, assessing.
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“Get in. I’ll explain everything.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
His lips twitched.
“Fair enough.”
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He exhaled, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Then I’ll talk here.”
“I’m listening.”
His gaze met mine.
“My father is handing over control of our family business soon. But there’s a condition—he wants to see me as a settled man. Stable. Engaged.”
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“And that affects me how?”
Steven studied me for a moment. Then, with a quiet certainty, he said, “Because I need a fiancée.”
I let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
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He let the silence stretch just long enough before adding, “And you need money. I heard you talking to your manager.”
My fingers curled into fists. “You were listening?”
“I see an opportunity, I take it. You need money. I need a fiancée. It’s simple.”
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Simple. Right. Except nothing about this feels simple at all.
“You… want me to pretend to be your fiancée?”
“A few weeks. Public appearances. My father believes I’ve finally settled down, and in return… I’ll pay for your father’s surgery.”
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I could refuse. Walk away. Pretend this conversation never happened. But then what? My father would suffer. His condition would worsen.
I didn’t remember saying yes. But an hour later, I was in a dressing room, surrounded by silk dresses and designer heels, staring at a reflection I didn’t recognize.
The girl in the mirror looked polished. Elegant. Someone who belonged in Steven’s world.
I wasn’t that girl. But for the following few weeks… I would have to be.
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***
Steven’s father’s birthday came. It was our grand debut as a couple.
The mansion was breathtaking. It wasn’t just big, the kind of place you saw in magazines, the kind of house that didn’t feel real.
A live band played soft jazz in the background, and waiters in crisp black uniforms weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne.
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I kept my shoulders back, my posture perfect, just as Steven had instructed. Every movement mattered. Every glance, every smile. We were on display.
Steven played his part flawlessly. He smiled at all the right moments and whispered small reassurances whenever I hesitated.
“Relax,” he murmured in my ear as we walked further into the room. “You look perfect.”
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His father, a tall, commanding man approached us. His sharp eyes scanned me from head to toe.
“Father,” Steven said smoothly. “This is Sophie.”
“Ah, so this is the young woman you’ve been hiding from us,” his father said, his voice rich with skepticism. “Lovely.”
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And then I saw him. My regular. The man whose absence I had felt that very morning. The one I had secretly admired for months without knowing his name.
But finally, I did. Steven’s father introduced him with a proud smile.
Oliver. Steven’s brother.
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His gaze locked onto mine, and I knew instantly—he recognized me too. He didn’t approach right away. He waited. He watched. And then, when the moment was just right, he made his move.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he said casually, stepping closer.
“Oliver…”
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“You know, I’ve spent months trying to work up the nerve to ask you out. But it turns out I didn’t need to. My brother beat me to it.”
“I…”
“I came to that café every morning just to see you,” he continued, ignoring my attempt to speak. “I thought maybe one day, I’d stop being a coward and say something. But I never did.”
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He let out a quiet laugh. “Instead, I followed you home a few times. Not in a creepy way…”
“Oliver.”
“…just because I couldn’t find the right words.”
I could tell him the truth. I could explain everything and end the lie before it spiraled any further.
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But then my father’s face flashed in my mind. The hospital. The money.
I turned away, slipped my hand into Steven’s, and leaned up to kiss him.
The first time a lie had ever tasted so bitter.
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***
The next morning, Steven placed a check in front of me.
“Here.”
I stared at the paper. The amount was more than enough to cover my father’s surgery and keep him comfortable for months. My hands trembled as I picked it up. But instead of relief, all I felt was emptiness.
“You are playing your part well. Maybe we should continue this… see if there’s something real between us.”
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I set the check back on the table.
“I can’t. I thought I could pretend, but even one more day would be unbearable. The truth is… from the very beginning, I’ve been in love with your brother.”
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For a moment, Steven said nothing. His jaw tightened, his fingers tapping against the table. I braced for anger, accusations, something. But when he finally spoke, his voice was calm.
“I can’t keep you here. Thank you for the evening.”
His eyes flicked to the check on the table before he pocketed it without a word. Then, without another glance, he walked out, leaving me alone.
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***
The following night, just as I was locking up the café, the door opened.
Oliver! He stepped forward, holding something out.
“Take it,” he said, pressing the paycheck into my hands. “Even if we never see each other again. I want to help your father.”
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He knew. Steven must have told him everything.
“Oliver, I…”
“You didn’t have to lie,” he interrupted gently. “You could’ve just asked. I would have helped. No deals. No charades.”
Tears burned at the back of my eyes. I looked down at the check, then back at him.
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“I was always happy when you came to the café. I used to put an extra cookie on your plate, hoping you’d notice.”
“I noticed.”
“I made a desperate choice. I just wanted to help my father…”
“You don’t have to explain. Steven realized his mistake because of how honest you were. And because of that, I get to be here with you now.”
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The burden of guilt, of fear, of uncertainty, it wasn’t all gone, but it was lighter. Oliver glanced at the check in my hands, then back at me.
“Come on. Let’s go to the hospital and talk to the doctor about your dad’s treatment.”
I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of everything settle into something new. Something right. I nodded, letting him take my hand. That time, I wasn’t walking my road alone.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: The elderly man at my café ordered dinner for two, but no one ever came. When I learned why, I couldn’t walk away. His love had vanished a year ago—without a trace. What I uncovered changed everything.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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